“I must own that what more particularly endears Mr. Bunyan to my heart is this, he was of a catholic spirit. The want of water adult baptism, with this man of God, was no bar to outward Christian communion. And I am persuaded, that if, like him, we were more deeply and experimentally baptized into the benign and gracious influences of the blessed Spirit, we should be less baptized into the waters of strife, about circumstantials and non-essentials. We should have but one grand, laudable, disinterested strife, namely, who should live, preach, and exalt the ever-loving, altogether lovely Jesus most.”
Just at this period, Whitefield took under his patronage a young man, who, if not a tinker, was quite as poor as the “immortal dreamer.” Cornelius Winter, the son of a shoemaker, and bred in a workhouse, was now in the twenty-fifth year of his age. For twelve long years, he had been the drudge and the butt of a drunken brute in Bunhill Row. The poor workhouse lad had been converted by attending Whitefield’s Tabernacle, and had become a member of its Society. During the last year or two, he had been an itinerant preacher, and now he applied to Whitefield to send him, as a minister, to America. Whitefield replied:—
“London, January 29, 1767.
“Dear Mr. Winter,—Your letter met with proper acceptance. The first thing to be done now is to get some knowledge of the Latin language. We can talk of the method to be pursued, at your return to London.Mr. Green[557] would make a suitable master. No time should be lost. One would hope that the various humiliations you have met with were intended as preparations for future exaltations. The greatest preferment under heaven is to be an able, painful, faithful, successful, suffering, cast-out minister of the New Testament. That this may be your happy lot is the hearty prayer of yours, etc.,
“George Whitefield.”[558]
On coming to London, Cornelius Winter waited upon Whitefield. He writes:—
“Mr. Whitefield gave me a mild reception. The interview was short. He said he should expect me to preach in the Tabernacle next morning at six o’clock, and he appointed a time when I should come to him again. I heard him in the evening. He announced that a stranger, recommended by Mr. Berridge, would preach on the morrow morning. I had little rest that night, and prayed, rather than studied for the service.”
This was in February, 1767. The result was, Whitefield desired Winter to procure testimonials from the places he had visited, and also to write him an account of his conversion. Winter says:—
“For several days, Mr. Whitefield kept me in suspense. At last, he set me upon a little business, and told me he should expect me to preach two mornings in the week. He appointed me particular times when I was to call upon him; and, besides sending me upon errands, of which he always had a great number, he set me to transcribe some of his manuscripts. He shewed himself much dissatisfied with my writing and orthography; but he desired me to take a lodging near the chapel, where he could conveniently send for me; gave me a little money to defray my expenses; and, by degrees, brought me into a capacity to be useful to him. Soon after, he proposed my going to Mr. Green’s for a few hours in the day, to be initiated into the Latin grammar; but he interrupted the design by requiring a close attention to his own business, and the large demand he made of my pulpit services. A single quarter of a year closed my school exercise, in which I hardly gained knowledge enough to decline Musa. It was plain Mr. Whitefield did not intend to promote my literary improvement. Indeed, he said, Latin was of little or no use, and that they who wish to enter upon it late in life, had better endeavour to acquire a good knowledge of their mother tongue. Having recently attended Mr. Wesley’s conference, and having heard him speak to the same effect, he was confirmed in this sentiment, and discouraged my perseverance.
“Perhaps it would be putting the picture of so valuable a man, as Mr.Whitefield was, into too deep a shade, to say that he was not a fit person for a young man in humble circumstances to be connected with. He was not satisfied with deficient abilities, but he did not sufficiently encourage the use of the lamp for their improvement. The attention of a youth, designed for the ministry, was too much diverted from the main object, and devoted too much to objects comparatively trifling. I was considered as much the steward of his house as his assistant in the ministry. While I was kept in bay and at anchor, many, piloted by him, set sail, and I at last knew not whether I was to indulge a hope for America or not. My fidelity being proved, I became one of the family, slept in the room of my honoured patron, and had the privilege to sit at his table. I judged I was where I should be, and was determined never to flinch from the path of duty, nor intentionally to grieve the man, who had many burdens upon him, and for whom I could have laid down my life.”[559]